Paid for Acting
by Cireca S.A.M
Summary: Johnny Cade looks back through the years and reflects on his life.


**Disclaimer: I do not own **_**The Outsiders**_**, nor do I own the characters from the book that I used. **

**A/N: Well, I have not posted anything for a while, now have I? I told you; don't expect anymore daily fics for a while. Anyway, I wrote this little fic (or should I say, rather long fic) over the course of a few days, which is a little longer than it usually takes me. Cut me some slack, I haven't exactly been getting any inspiring thoughts. However, I can almost always find something to say for little Johnny. So, I made kind of a year-by-year fic for him using a repetitive technique. I don't know if you'll think it's any good, but I tried. And thanks, all of you, who reviewed on my other stories! And again, sorry to ****spicygurl**** for accidentally deleting your review on Metal Pieces when I edited the chapter. It was well appreciated anyway! **

**P.S. For the record, yes, I do have a habit of picking totally random titles out of the blue that often have absolutely nothing with the story. Like my other story, that I am not going to reveal until it is finished.**

It had not always been that way.

Believe it or not, Johnny Cade could remember a time when his parents had not always been angry and bitter. There was a time where his father would not ever hit him and his mother would always kiss him goodnight. There was a small place in his memory where his mother had held him close, kissing his forehead softly as she tried to get him to go back to bed and forget about the nightmare he had just had. As a matter of fact, there was even a time when his father used to lift his son up and hold him, telling him how much he loved him.

When Johnny was just first born, though he could not remember it, his father had looked down at his son, wrapped up in the hospital blankets, with tears of pride in his eyes. He had begged the nurses to take him back to see his boy at every chance that he got. And even though he got to be with his boy for hours every day until they took him home, it was still not enough. Whenever he went to bed at night, he still found himself thinking and eagerly awaiting the time when he would get to hold that precious little bundle of joy in his arms again the next day. Jonathon Cade Sr. was a father. Even more than that, he was Daddy.

Johnny turned a year old. His mother made a tiny birthday cake, only big enough for four people. Johnny had his own slice, of course, and so did his parents. The fourth slice went to his grandmother, who was living with them. He ate it happily, making funny faces to Mommy and Grammy and banging his spoon on his highchair. Daddy was so wrapped up in his son that he barely let the other two adults get a word in to him. And Johnny did not have to worry about ever being scared or cold or hungry, because every night he fell asleep in his mother's arms and woke up again to her smiling face. Helen Cade was a mother. Even more than that, she was Mommy.

By the time Johnny was two years old, he was beginning to speak. As Mommy fed him dinner, she would make funny faces and ask him if he liked his food. He would always respond, "Yeah!" and then burst into a fit of giggles as Daddy laughed at him from across the table. Grammy would tell Helen not to feed him bad food and Mommy would always tell her that anything her baby ate had to be the best food around. Johnny was a son. Even more than that, he was their baby.

Johnny's third birthday was spent in a fancy restaurant with Mommy and Daddy. They told him that he was old enough to go to some nice place for dinner. His mother kept giving him new food to try, and when he did not want to, she would take a bite with him so that they could try it together. Daddy told the waiter that it was Johnny's birthday, and asked them to get him a piece of cake. They told him that it would be free, but Daddy insisted on paying anyway, just so that Johnny could get the biggest piece they had. Johnny was protected. Even more than that, he was cared for.

When Johnny was four years old, his mother and father both trusted Grammy enough to watch him at home while his mother got a job. The bills were beginning to pile up, and money was getting tight. Helen Cade said that it was because Jonathon spent it too freely, and Jonathon Cade said it was because of the loans Helen kept taking out. Grammy told them that they were both being stupid and, for the first time that Johnny could remember, went to bed without saying goodnight to anyone but Johnny. Johnny was confused. Even more than that, he was caught in the middle.

Five-year-old Johnny was enrolled in Kindergarten. His mother dropped him off, kissed him goodbye, and told him that Grammy would come to pick him up. There, Johnny was scared. All of these other children that he had never seen before were all around him, yelling and screaming and crying and playing. He had no idea what to do and, for the first time that Johnny could remember, no one that he was used to seeing was there to help him. Johnny was alone. Even more than that, he was abandoned.

When Johnny was six, he had made an almost-friend. Some boy named Anthony Whitman was in the same first grade class as he was. Anthony used to sit in the sand box and play with his blocks with Johnny, but Johnny was not so sure he liked Anthony as much as he thought he did. The boy was nice, but he never chose Johnny over his other friends once they invited him to play with them instead. He told this to Mommy and Daddy and even Grammy, too. But his parents tried to tell him not to bother Grammy too much. She was becoming very frail and weak. One day, Grammy was not there to pick him up from school. When Mommy came to get him—which was much later than he would have liked—it looked as if she had been crying. And when Johnny got home, Grammy was nowhere to be found. Daddy sat on the sofa, watching with tears in his eyes as his wife put his son to bed. Johnny was sad. Even more than that, he was missing his Grammy.

Johnny was seven. Grammy had not been there for three weeks now. Unlike every other year, he did not have a birthday party. And unlike every other year, no one was even happy for him. Johnny now had to walk home from his second grade class by himself. Even at school, Anthony did not talk to him much anymore. Johnny came home one day and Dad was sitting on the sofa. For the first time that Johnny could remember, his father had something—some bottle—in his hands. Three more were on the floor next to him. The boy had been worried about his father since Grammy had left, and on the day when they put her in the box in the ground, his parents had both been bawling. When Johnny poked his head in and called softly for his dad, a crack came down hard on his head. Johnny stumbled to the ground, shocked and dazed, and looked up to see his dad hovering over him. And for the first time that Johnny could remember, he was terrified of his own parent. With a slurred sentence, Dad kicked at his son before yelling at him to get up. He told Johnny to find his mother, and the kid wondered if Dad had forgotten that Mom still worked until seven. Johnny was scared. Even more than that, he was hurt.

By the time Johnny turned eight, his father had been hitting him about every two weeks. His mother barely talked to him anymore, and when he went to bed he could hear her yelling at Dad. Sometimes Dad would yell back to Mom, and sometimes he would hear loud bangs or crashes and then Mom would scream. Once, when Johnny snuck back out of bed to see them, he saw what it was; Dad would kick at something or throw something across the room, and Mom would shriek at him. It was odd how Dad never hit her, only Johnny. It was almost unfair. At school Johnny was being bullied as well; two kids in the grade above his, Tommy Hartwell and Steve Randle, were taking Johnny's money. On days when he really honestly did not have any to give them, they would knock him around a few times. Steve looked like he sometimes regretted it, but Tommy looked like he enjoyed it. It seemed as if everyone was picking on Johnny. Johnny was a target. Even more than that, he was a victim.

Johnny turned nine at the end of his third grade year. Things had not gotten better at home; if anything, they seemed to have gotten worse. His father hit him more often than ever, and he did not go to work anymore. He just sat at home drinking and yelling and hitting. Mom never talked to him either. A few nights after Grammy was put away, she had tucked him into bed. That had been the last time she had done so. And the day that Grammy first left was the day that his father had been miserable. He had not wanted to do anything but drink. Maybe that was what was wrong; maybe there was something wrong with the drink. But it seemed to be contagious, because ever since Dad became so miserable, Mom was too, and that made Johnny's life awful. Johnny was miserable. Even more than that, he was empty.

In fourth grade, ten-year-old Johnny was still being bullied. However, it was no longer by Tommy and Steve. Tommy had moved away and Steve had started hanging out with another boy named Sodapop Curtis. But now, it seemed that everyone still wanted to pick on little Johnny. He would be pushed around or beaten up in the hallways or in the lunch room, or even made fun of in the middle of class. He was too scared to do anything about it. Even if he wanted to, who would he tell? All alone, Johnny went through life as a robot. Johnny was stuck in the motions. Even more than that, he was trapped.

Fifth grade was horrible. By the end of the year, when Johnny was eleven years old, his parents had been gone for a long time. All the time he would think about them, wondering when they would come back. They were there, in the same house as he was, but they were so far away. Or was it the other way around? Maybe Johnny had done something. Maybe they had not changed, but he had. Maybe this was all his doings. Johnny was worried. Even more than that, he was lost.

When Johnny was twelve years old in sixth grade, he made another almost-friend. His name was Two-Bit Mathews, and he was two grades ahead of Johnny. For him, life was just something to do. It was not that bad to be almost-friends with Two-Bit, and for Johnny it was amazing just to fathom the thought that an eight grader was talking to him in a friendly way of his own free will. Two-Bit got into quite a bit of trouble, and Johnny was not sure he wanted to be involved in any of that. Even so, Johnny was not exactly in a position to be too picky with who he would consider a friend. Johnny was acquainted. Even more than that, he was befriended.

In seventh grade, Johnny was sure he did have a pretty solid friend. That Sodapop Curtis boy from the grade above his had been hanging around with Johnny. He told him that he should come over sometime, but Johnny had no idea what to say to that. One day, when he actually did walk home from school with Soda, he was introduced to Steve Randle. Steve had been nice enough and shook Johnny's hand and even started talking to him. It was as if he did not remember that Johnny was the pathetic little weasel he used to beat up on the playground. At Sodapop's house, Johnny was scared to go in, but his new friend urged him in nonetheless. His mother and father greeted their son and Steve and now Johnny, too. They were kind enough, and they offered him something to eat or drink and asked if he was going to stay for dinner. Despite Johnny's strong, desperate urge to say yes, he had to tell them no. He still had his own parents at home waiting for him. But in a way, he was jealous of Sodapop, and his older brother that Johnny had met, Darrel. Their parents seemed so loving and gentle, and somewhat familiar. It amazed Johnny how much they almost reminded him of two people that he used to know long ago. Johnny was fascinated. Even more than that, he was longing.

In eighth grade, Johnny once again felt alone. It seemed that every friend or half-friend he had ever made had left him. First it was Anthony. After that, Two-Bit, and now Soda and Steve too, were all moved into the high school. He figured that they had probably forgotten about him by then, as he had not been back to Soda's house since the end of seventh grade. Maybe his parents were right; maybe he was completely useless and unwanted. Maybe he could never have a real friend, despite how sincere Sodapop had seemed. There was a new boy in his class who was particularly interesting. He had been in the sixth grade last year, but was now in the eighth grade. His name was Ponyboy, and he seemed to be pretty popular. However, it seemed like he was always being picked on as well by a group of richer boy; Socs, Johnny had heard them be called. One day, Ponyboy sat with him at lunch. It turned out that Ponyboy was Sodapop's little brother. Ponyboy and Johnny became pretty well-acquainted. Johnny would even go so far as to call Ponyboy as good a friend as Sodapop had been; maybe even better, since he was in the same grade as Johnny and so would never have to be separated from him. Maybe his parents were, just this once, just a little bit wrong. Johnny was welcome. Even more than that, he was wanted.

Johnny was fifteen years old in freshman year. He and Ponyboy were in the same class again, and Johnny hoped it would stay that way. Now that he had been such good friends with Ponyboy, he would walk down to his house a lot. Sometimes Ponyboy would walk to his house and he would get Johnny to come with him to wherever he was going. Johnny had learned to stick with the people he knew and stay away from the Socs. He had learned to be careful wherever he went, especially around Socs and at home around his parents. As it turned out, Two-Bit Mathews was also pretty fond of the Curtis brothers. Steve still hung around. And the group that they had formed even consisted of a tough boy from New York whom Johnny had heard of plenty of times, Dallas Winston. Johnny wanted to be like Dallas in every way. The Curtis parents whom Johnny had come to love died in a car accident, Sodapop dropped out of school, and Johnny got jumped. It had been a very eventful year, but not in the way that anyone had hoped. Johnny was there. Even more than that, he was part of it.

Now Johnny was sixteen years old, and a sophomore. He no longer had his parents, and he had supposedly gotten over the fact that they were never coming back. Deep down, it still hurt knowing that they would not, and sometimes he even dreamed that they had. He no longer had his Grammy, either, who he now realized had been such a big part of his father's life, and maybe his mother's too. He no longer had that boy Anthony who used to play blocks with him and then leave him for his other friends. He was no longer being beaten up by Tommy Hartwell and Steve Randle. Instead, he was fighting with Steve Randle, Ponyboy and his brothers, Two-Bit, and Dally, against the Socs. He had his gang, and they were good enough. Sometimes, when he would fall asleep leaning against Ponyboy, he would pretend that he was still falling asleep in his mother's arms. And sometimes, when his father hit him, he would pretend that he was going to turn out big and strong because of it. Johnny would pretend that things were good, even though they not always were. And, for the first time that he can remember, Johnny is growing up surrounded by people who like him, and people who do not. Johnny was a person. Even more than that, he was an outsider.


End file.
